


Lust Letters

by ureshiiichigo



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is surprisingly tolerant of Merlin's incompetence, Crack, First Kiss, Humor, M/M, Merlin fears for his sanity, Morgana has a hidden agenda, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ureshiiichigo/pseuds/ureshiiichigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana has her sights set on Arthur, or so she says. Unfortunately, she seems to think Merlin knows the proper way to woo him. Merlin disagrees.</p><p>
  <i>"You're his manservant, Merlin. You've seen him in certain situations that would be deemed, well, improper for a lady."</i>
</p><p>  <i>Merlin felt his ears go hot as he moved his gaze from Morgana back to his polishing cloth and resumed scrubbing furiously at Arthur's chest plate. "So, what, you're saying that I've seen his... royal bits... and so I'm now the expert?"</i></p><p>  <i>Merlin started polishing the armour a bit faster, and tried in vain not to think about Arthur's aforementioned royal bits.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morgana’s Manipulations

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by [this delightful prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/34275.html?thread=36522467#t36522467) on the Merlin Kink Meme:
> 
> _One of Merlin's friends is really in love with Arthur, but doesn't quite dare to do woo him. So s/he asks Merlin to help. Merlin is unwilling, as Arthur is a prat, but he helps coming up with ideas, and writes love letters or whatever._
> 
> _In the process Merlin falls for Arthur, and Arthur falls for Merlin._
> 
> This story has been de-anon'd, and contains a few minor tweaks from the original version on the kinkmeme. It was beta'd by the lovely [percygranger](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger). This hasn't been Brit-picked, so feel free to yell at me if you see something dumb. Then again, this is crack, so there's a chance it was intentional.

Merlin was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the armoury, absorbed in wiping down Arthur’s plate mail, when the swishy edge of a green velvet skirt came into view.

Morgana’s voice echoed from just above Merlin’s head. "How well would you say you know Arthur?"

Merlin looked up from his polishing, head jerking back in surprise. "What?"

Morgana draped herself over the chair across from Merlin and started toying with a suit of chain mail. "You know him better than anyone, don't you, Merlin?" 

"What are you talking about? I've only known him for a little over a year; you're the one who grew up with the git."

"Well, we were never really _close_ ," Morgana said, a smirk on her face, "if you catch my meaning."

"Close?"

Morgana raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "Intimate."

Comprehension dawned. It was not a pleasant feeling. "Oh god." Merlin gripped the plate mail more forcefully than necessary.

Morgana fluttered her eyelashes, apparently relishing the psychological trauma she'd induced. "You're his _manservant_ , Merlin. You've seen him in certain situations that would be deemed, well, _improper_ for a lady."

Merlin felt his ears go hot as he moved his gaze from Morgana back to his polishing cloth and resumed scrubbing furiously at Arthur's chest plate. "So, what, you're saying that I've seen his... royal bits... and so I'm now the expert?"

Merlin started polishing the armour a bit faster, and tried in vain not to think about Arthur's aforementioned royal bits.

Morgana oozed out of her chair and onto the floor, creeping closer to where Merlin sat. "Merlin, darling, do keep up. You have access. Access that, well, is _denied_ to certain personages simply due to differences in gender. It's entirely unfair." She slid one hand onto the chest plate, so Merlin shifted to polish the other side.

Merlin shook his head, and very pointedly did not think about the access he had to Arthur's bits. "I… really don't see how I can help you, Morgana."

"I'd just like to get to know Arthur more intimately, that's all." Morgana smiled, her teeth glinting and her eyes shining menacingly, inching ever-closer. She looked more like a snake than a woman.

Merlin blinked at the reptilian creature who was now practically in his lap. "Are you serious?"

"Help a girl out, Merlin!"

Merlin stared blankly at Morgana for a few moments. She looked far too cheerful. "I don't… what?"

Morgana simply continued smiling at Merlin, as Merlin's mind helpfully provided him with different predatory animals as means of comparison. 

He had gone through gryphon (no man-made weapon could stop her from attaining a goal), dragon (her glare could singe off even Gaius' eyebrows if she was in a foul mood), and hydra (cut off Morgana's argument and she'd just come up with two more), before he slumped back against the wall behind him and let out a sigh. "You're not going to stop harassing me until I agree to help you, are you?"

Morgana winked. "Smart man."

Merlin sighed in defeat. He shook his head, just to check and see if his brain had somehow fallen loose and needed to be glued back in. Thankfully, the rattling noises were kept to a minimum. "So, what, exactly, did you want me to do?"

Morgana tapped a perfectly curved fingernail against her lower lip. Merlin couldn't help but stare. "The first step, obviously, is to gain his affections. I thought we'd start with something simple."

Morgana clasped her hands and bounded up from her perch on Merlin's chair. "A gift! You know what he would like, don't you, Merlin?"

Merlin blinked. "Uh. No. Not really."

Morgana sighed and Merlin could have sworn he heard her muttering about useless servants under her breath. "Well, come up with something, will you?" she said, smoothing down her skirts as she pulled open Arthur's chamber door. "I have to go; Uther will be worried if I'm any later for supper."

"Right, of course, a gift for Arthur, I... Oh," Merlin said as the door thunked heavily shut behind Morgana. "She's gone. Which means I'm talking to myself now. Sure sign of derangement, talking to one's self. Not going to stop me, of course. But it's something to keep in mind."

***

Whenever Merlin saw Morgana in the halls that afternoon and the following day, he ended up ducking into the nearest alcove to avoid her. It wasn’t running away, exactly. It was strategic planning. The longer he kept from running into Morgana accidentally, the longer he’d have to think of a present for Arthur.

Not that the extra time had helped him any. Merlin had racked his brain, but he still had no idea what to get for his royal pratness.

After all, Arthur had everything he could possibly want, didn't he? He was a prince. His father gave him everything he needed. He ate well (as long as Merlin wasn't stealing his sausages), slept in a fantastically soft bed (Merlin had collapsed on it time enough to know), hunted with the best weapons, patrolled in the finest armour, and rode the fastest horses. What else could the man possibly want?

Well, besides a girlfriend, or freedom from responsibility. Or a night to himself, without his father around, when he could just go down to the tavern to have ale with some mates...

Bloody hell. 

Poetry, maybe? Or… flowers? Ugh, no. Arthur wasn't a bloody girl. 

Maybe a really well polished knife… All the better to stab Merlin with.

Or… cheese? Arthur liked cheese, yes?

Merlin smashed his head on the door frame, not for the first time tonight. He'd just have to tell Morgana that there wasn't a good gift for her to get Arthur. Unless it was a public whipping of his manservant. And Merlin didn't plan to suggest that.

So, later that evening, when Morgana flounced her way into Merlin's chambers, past an irritatingly amused Gaius, Merlin simply scowled at her and resumed unlacing his boots. "No, Morgana," he said, cutting off whatever snide comment she was about to make, "I haven't come up with a gift for Arthur. The only things he seems to enjoy are being a prat and making me miserable."

Morgana rolled her eyes as she came over and collapsed next to Merlin, on top of his bed. "This is lumpy," she complained.

"Of course it's lumpy! I'm a servant!"

Morgana merely shifted uncomfortably, her hand curling under Merlin's pillow and dragging it under her head, her feet swinging to and fro as they bent off the side of the bed. "Working for Arthur pays well, doesn't it? Shouldn't you have a more comfortable bed by now?" She turned to look at Merlin, her mouth forming a small smile and her eyebrow quirked in question. "What about the chambers connecting to Arthur's? Don't you have a bed there?"

Merlin snorted as he pulled off his boot and tossed it into the corner. "As if I want to spend any more time with the prat than I have to." He glanced over at Morgana's amused expression. "Besides, he likes his privacy."

"I suppose he does," Morgana remarked, but her smile looked far too amused for Merlin's tastes. He would have worried he was missing something obvious, but he always felt in over his head where Morgana was concerned.

Without warning, Morgana leapt to her feet. "Don't worry, Merlin. I'm sure you'll think of something." With a wink, Morgana swirled out of Merlin's chambers.

Gaius poked his head in a few minutes later, as Merlin was just finishing pulling his tunic over his head. "What was all that about, I wonder?"

"Oh, don't you start, Gaius."

Gaius merely hummed and shut the door gently behind him.

***

Merlin had still not come up with a proper gift for Arthur, but that didn't matter so much these days, because Morgana was driving him slowly insane.

Whether or not he actually came up with a present, Morgana had discovered a new, effective way to torture Merlin. He suspected it had very little to do with Morgana's interest in Arthur and much more to do with Morgana's amusement in seeing Merlin come close to snapping and beating his own head in from sheer frustration.

In the past week, all of Merlin's conversations with Morgana had gone along the following lines:

"So, Merlin... have you prepared any baths for Arthur lately?"  
"What? No, not for a few days."  
"Let me know when you do."

"Does Arthur touch himself in front of you?"  
" _What_?"  
"He seems to always be touching his face during supper. I was merely wondering if he does the same in front of you."

"What kind of undergarments does Arthur wear?"  
"How would... I don't know!"  
"You'll just have to pay more attention next time he gets dressed. Report back with your findings."

"Exactly how... big... would you say he is?"  
"For the love of..."  
"I was simply asking about his armour size, Merlin!"

"Does he let you sleep in his bed, Merlin?"  
"Morgana, I think you may have gotten the wrong impression..."  
"That's a yes, then?"

"Would you guess that Arthur is a virgin…"  
"Morgana!"  
"…In the art of flower arrangement?"

"Have you been polishing Arthur's sword?"  
"Yes?"  
"Do you like the feel of it under your hands?"  
"I…"  
"Do you rub it until it gleams?"

"Does Arthur ever ask for massages?"  
"What?"  
"Do you use oil?"  
"Oil? I-"  
"Do you flip him over to work on his front?"  
"Just stop."

If Morgana came to him with one more innuendo, or another supposedly innocent question about Arthur's naked form, Merlin was going to scream.

So when he strolled out of Arthur's room only to see Morgana coming down the hall towards him, he did the only thing he could think of. Which was to jump back into Arthur's quarters.

Arthur stepped out from behind the folding screen, a towel slung across his hips, and started to move towards the bath Merlin had just filled for him. Noticing Merlin, he scrambled to secure the towel wrapped round his waist, and gave Merlin a pointed look. "Yes?"

"Sorry, it's... _Morgana_."

"Ah, yes, that explains everything. I can see why you are fleeing in terror and hiding in my private quarters." Arthur pursed his lips. "And yet, of the two of us, you would think that I am far more intimidating than Morgana, yes?"

"What?"

Arthur glared and waved one hand at the bath tub. "Leave me to my bath, you idiot! I don't care if you have to endure the horrors of Morgana's company!"

"But-"

"Out! Shoo!"

So much for the escape plan. When Arthur finished shoving Merlin through the door, Morgana was waiting for him, a smile on her face. He turned around and scratched at the door, but Arthur had locked it.

"So, Merlin," Morgana said, her smile positively wicked and her eyes lit up with mischief, "do you think Arthur would like any assistance while he bathes?"

"Seeing as how he just left me to your mercy," Merlin snapped, "I would guess that's a no!"

Morgana pouted. "Damn."

Merlin shook his head. "Why would you care if I get to help him with his bath or not?"

Morgana's pursed lips stretched into a wicked grin. "How else will you be able to report back on what he looks like hot, bare, and wet?"

Merlin just groaned. Morgana was going to be the death of him. Either Morgana's lewd description would cause Merlin to implode from sexual frustration, or Arthur, sick of their shenanigans, would snap and beat Merlin to death with his chamber pot. Merlin spent a moment wondering which one was more likely.

Probably the sexual frustration route; though Arthur did have a formidable temper, he was surprisingly lenient when it came to Merlin. Also, Merlin hadn't had a good lay since leaving Ealdor.

Morgana interrupted his thoughts with the light touch of fingertips on his shoulder. "Come now, Merlin. If Arthur does not want gifts, surely there must be some way to woo him?"

Merlin bit his lip as Morgana nudged him gently down the corridor towards her chambers. "Well, I suppose… you could write him a love letter?"

Morgana laughed, a pretty tinkling sound. If Merlin hadn't known better, he would have thought that laugh belonged to a sweet, innocent, fragile thing, and not Morgana, destroyer of souls and terroriser of men throughout all of Albion.

"Arthur's not a girl, Merlin."

"I know that!" Merlin protested. "Just because he's not a girl, doesn't mean he wouldn't appreciate a love letter." Merlin glared at Morgana as she sniggered beside him. Her snigger was much less ladylike, and much more Morgana-like.

"Your lips are like rubies," Morgana quoted, "and your eyes like sapphires. Your behind fuels the fires, of my earthly desires," she singsonged.

Merlin squawked. There was, sadly, no more masculine term for the sound he emitted. Morgana's sniggers graduated to full on cackles.

"Don't even start, Morgana! That was rubbish." Upon seeing that her cackling was only growing louder, Merlin jabbed her in the side with his elbow. "Fine, fine! I'll help you write a _proper_ love letter. Just shut up until we get to your chambers so I can avoid dying of embarrassment."


	2. Love Letters and Such

Three hours later, Merlin was rather proud of his accomplishment. He'd helped Morgana write a bonafide love letter. Despite much initial bickering from both parties, it was earnest without being overly emotional, flattering to Arthur's physical aspects without becoming lewd, and hopefully sufficiently anonymous that Arthur would not be able to ascertain its source (and cause him to seek revenge by murdering Merlin in his sleep).

_My prince,_ it read,

_I am not one to wax long and eloquent on your bronzed skin or prowess with throwing knives. It is not merely your strength or your handsome physique that draws me to you._

_Suffice it to say that I know your faults,_

Here Morgana and Merlin both sniggered, and Merlin added, for emphasis, _(and there are many),_

_but I cannot help but love you regardless._

This was the first point that Merlin started to regret his word choice. "I know it's a love letter, but… Are you sure I should say love?" he had asked Morgana, an incredulous note in his voice.

She merely raised an eyebrow, hovering next to him as he sat at the desk, parchment beneath his hands and pen clutched between his fingers. "Of course you should use the word love, Merlin. What other word applies?"

"Oh, come on, Morgana. Not once have you commented on anything besides his perfectly luscious arse, or his bloody cheekbones and chin, or his artistically sculpted upper arms. The very fact that we are using the word _love_ is an insult to the concept."

Morgana had spluttered. "Look, just because I emphasise certain parts of his physique is no reason to doubt the…" She bit her lip, frowning. "The, ah, _depth_ of my emotion!"

Merlin simply snorted.

"Look, he's… noble," Morgana said. "And such. And he's, ah, amusing, I suppose. Look," she huffed, "isn't it your job to help me come up with a list of his positive attributes?"

Merlin sighed and went back to the letter.

_You have a noble and kind heart._

Morgana snorted.

"Shut up," Merlin said. "You told me to list his positive attributes!"

"I _also_ said that he's not a girl," Morgana said, poking at the parchment under the word _heart_. "Who says _noble and kind heart_ these days?"

Merlin scowled. "Look, unless you want me to replace every instance of the word _love_ with the phrase _want to get into your pants_ —"

"No!" Morgana interjected. "Of course not. Noble and kind heart is…" She stopped, and scowled. "Perfect. Keep writing, will you? I haven't got all day."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I've heard that one before."

_Though you attempt to hide under bravado and bluster, I can see that you care deeply for your people. As they one day shall care for you._

_As I already care for you._

"Really?" Morgana asked. "You put it on its own line?"

"For emphasis!" Merlin said, somewhat grouchy. "If you know how to write love letters better than me, then by all means, go ahead and write the damned thing yourself!"

_Sometimes you speak as though a terrible burden rests upon you, and no one sees this. But please know that you are not alone. You will be a great king, one day. But for now, know that you are loved, not for being the future king, but simply for being Arthur._

"Awwww," Morgana cooed.

"Shut up," Merlin replied, though it was half-hearted at best.

_Your humble servant_

After a few minutes debating whether or not to sign the letter with an M, Merlin finally laid the pen down, and Morgana chortled with glee as she snatched up the parchment and read it over once more.

"You don't think that last line would make him think I wrote this, do you?" Merlin asked, suddenly nervous. "I mean, I'm his servant, and it uses the word servant—"

"Oh, stop being such a worrywart, Merlin," Morgana said, rolling her eyes. "It's a common enough phrase. He's not going to immediately think you wrote it. Besides," she added, glaring down at Merlin, "it's not a letter from you, anyway. It's from me."

Merlin scrunched up his nose. "It may be from you, but I'm the one who did all the work."

"And I'm sure he'll appreciate your artful way with words. Now go hide it in his chambers," Morgana said, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. "And make sure to observe his reaction when he finds it."

***

It took Merlin an embarrassingly long time to sneak the letter into Arthur's chambers. Whenever Merlin tried sneaking into his sleeping quarters, Arthur would be there. He would either shoo him away to get privacy, blather on about the hunting trip he was going on in a few days, or go send Merlin off to muck out the stables. The second time he told Merlin to muck out the stables in the same day, Merlin scowled and told him off. The third time, Merlin simply said "yes, sire" and wandered back to his own chambers to study up on magic spells from the book Gaius had lent him.

It wasn't Merlin's fault that the prince couldn't remember how to lace his own trousers, much less that Merlin had already mucked out the stables not an hour prior.

After what must have been several hours, Merlin pushed himself off of the bed, rubbing his cheek where it had fallen onto the book in front of him. Most of the drool seemed to have landed on the pillow, and not the text, thankfully. Merlin put the book away, stretched, and shuffled off towards Arthur's quarters, still blinking sleepily.

The corridors were quiet at this time of night, and as Merlin slipped into Arthur's chambers, he held his breath and kept to his tiptoes, padding over to Arthur's breakfast table without making a sound. He slipped the folded up parchment from his jacket pocket to Arthur's place setting, knowing that even if he wouldn't see it until after breakfast, Merlin could point it out to him after he cleared the breakfast dishes.

He took a moment to linger in the doorway, watching the soft shifting of the duvet as Arthur's chest moved up and down. Soft strands of blond hair fell over Arthur's forehead, the colour only faintly visible in the light of the full moon shining through Arthur's bedroom window. Sometimes Merlin wished he could see Arthur like this more often. He was softer in his sleep, somehow, the stubborn lines of his face washed away into something peaceful and innocent.

Arthur shifted in his sleep, dragging the duvet with him as he turned onto his side, and Merlin started out of his daze. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, Merlin wondered how many love letters Morgana would want to sneak into Arthur's bed chambers, and how many of those would afford him an opportunity to watch Arthur's face as he slept.

***

The next day, when Merlin arrived with Arthur's breakfast tray, Arthur was already awake, sitting staring out the window with a pensive expression on his face.

"You're up early," Merlin said, cutlery clinking as it came into contact with the smooth wood of the breakfast table. "What's the occasion?"

"Someone was in my chambers last night." Arthur shot a dark glance at Merlin. "I _thought_ I'd had the doors locked."

Merlin shrugged, attempting his who-me-I'm-completely-innocent face. Arthur's further darkening expression indicated that he was not impressed. "Even princes forget things. Don't be so hard on yourself, sire."

"It's not a matter of—" Arthur snorted, collapsing into his chair with a thud and scooting closer to the plate full of sausages. "I didn't forget anything. Someone broke into my chambers, Merlin."

Merlin stopped mid-step, his hand half-closed around the water pitcher. "Do you think they meant ill intent, sire? Do we need to increase security?" The concern in his eyes was not entirely faked; after all, if Arthur found out Merlin had been the one sneaking into his chambers while he slept, he'd likely throw another bucket of water on Merlin's head.

Arthur sighed and speared a sausage rather viciously. Merlin made a mental note that Arthur was displaying signs of pent up rage, and would need to go on a hunting trip some point soon to vent his frustrations. "No, nothing like that."

Merlin started pouring water, biting his lip. "Did they take something?"

Arthur chewed thoughtfully, waving Merlin away when he'd finished filling the water glass. "No, just the opposite."

"They left something?" Merlin furrowed his eyebrows. "Some sort of poison? An enchantment?"

"Nothing like that, Merlin," Arthur said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water. "It was perfectly harmless, I'm sure. It just makes me wonder _who_ it was who left it."

Merlin shrugged. "They may return." He puttered about Arthur's chambers, opening the curtains and straightening the bed sheets.

"I'm sure," Arthur replied, his voice dry, and Merlin could just picture the amused smirk and quirk of Arthur's eyebrow. Merlin was careful not to look in his direction; he could feel the blush creeping up his neck even now. Thank the gods for neckerchiefs.

***

"So?" Morgana hissed. "What did he say?"

"Nothing!" Merlin said, still jittery. Just a few moments ago, he had been striding merrily down the corridor, musing on Arthur's reaction to the love letter, when Morgana had ambushed him and dragged him into the nearest empty alcove.

Merlin maintained that he had only been mildly startled when Morgana had popped up seemingly from out of nowhere and sunk her claws into his arm. Morgana argued that jumping about a metre into the air and squealing like a trapped stoat was indicative of more than mild alarm.

"What do you mean, nothing?" Morgana said. She was still hissing. Merlin didn't really understand why she couldn't just say things in a normal voice. It wasn't like her hissing was any quieter than her typical speech.

"I mean exactly that! He didn't read it in front of me. He found it before I came in for breakfast."

"He didn't even _mention_ it?" Morgana squeezed Merlin's arm tighter. He hoped she didn't break something. He had very delicate upper arms.

"He noticed it, but he didn't say anything about it in particular."

Morgana rolled her eyes and her death grip relaxed a bit. "Fine, then, Merlin, since you must be so literal. What, exactly, did the prince say when you talked to him this morning?"

"He said someone had broken into his chambers and he expressed his displeasure."

"Displeasure?"

"Well, you know Arthur. He implied it was somehow the result of my incompetence as a manservant."

"Well, you are fairly incompetent," and at this Merlin let out an affronted squawk, which Morgana blithely ignored, "but we'd know if he were actually upset, don't you think?"

Merlin shrugged, or tried to. Morgana was still latched onto his left arm, and it was starting to feel a bit numb. "I suppose."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Um." Merlin chewed on his lip. "Not really?"

Morgana sighed and finally let go of Merlin's arm. Merlin took the opportunity to rub some feeling back into the muscles. "I don't know what he sees in you."

"Oi! I'm not _your_ manservant!" Merlin glared, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, and I almost forgot. He did say he wanted to know who had sent it."

Morgana's grin spread into something wicked, and Merlin shuddered. "He's intrigued, then. Excellent." She flipped her head back, hair falling in a cascade down her shoulders, and straightened her posture so that she stood even with Merlin's ungainly slouch. "Meet me in my chambers tomorrow evening; we can discuss Arthur's reaction. Perhaps we should compose a second letter."

Merlin groaned and resisted the urge to smash his head into the nearest vertical surface. In this case, it would be Morgana’s shoulder, and ultimately counterproductive. “Another one?”

Morgana glared.

Merlin cowered a bit under her gaze. “Right, a second letter, sounds fantastic.”

Appeased, Morgana’s features smoothed into a smile before she turned and shot Merlin a pointed look. "Don't you have somewhere to be? Mucking the stables, perhaps?" She swept out of the room with a final hair flip, her skirts swirling behind her majestically.

Merlin rubbed his hands over his forehead. Why had he ever agreed to this rubbish? If Morgana didn't kill him first, then Arthur would. It was only a matter of time.

With a scowl on his face, Merlin marched off in the direction of the stables.

***

The following day, Arthur seemed agitated. He kept glancing at the door to his chambers as if expecting it to burst open and reveal a horde of love-letter-wielding assassins.

Merlin nudged Arthur with an elbow as he helped him unlace his tunic in preparation for his evening bath. "Why so tense, sire?"

"I'm not tense," Arthur snapped.

"Right," Merlin said, trying his best to keep a straight face. From Arthur's thunderous expression, he was not succeeding. "Look, if this is about the bandits that were sighted on the town outskirts, I'm sure—"

"Shut up, Merlin. You're not helping."

Merlin grinned. He could see the corner of Arthur's mouth twitching faintly. It either meant that he was amused or irritated. Around Merlin, he tended to be both.

"Well," Merlin said, as he finished pulling Arthur's tunic over his head, "I'd best be off. Supposed to help Muh—" Merlin stopped mid-word, eyes wide. "Myself. Supposed to help myself… to supper. With Gaius."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. He had nothing on Gaius' fuzzy monstrosities, but one of Arthur's raised brows could express haughty intimidation better than anything. "That was terrible, Merlin, even for you."

"Terrible?" Merlin shuffled towards the bathtub and leaned down to start filling it, his back turned to Arthur.

It took a moment for Arthur to respond in a properly scathing tone. "Supposed to help myself to supper? _Really_? You're a rubbish liar at the best of times, Merlin, and I don't think we can count this among your best."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Merlin said, straightening up. "Is the bath water hot enough for you, sire?"

"Don't you sire me," Arthur scolded, walking up to the tub and dipping his finger into the water. "Yes, fine. Don't know how you managed it, really, considering the number of times you've scalded me in the past."

"That was _once_ ," Merlin complained.

"Twice."

"Oh, come on. You didn't even get burnt the second time."

"Only because I knew to check the temperature before trying to get in!" Arthur's face was flushed, a pink sheen climbing up his chest and neck as he glared at Merlin, hands on hips and limbs akimbo.

Merlin rolled his eyes and very specifically did not look at Arthur's bare chest. "My apologies, sire."

"You're a rubbish servant, you know that?"

Merlin smiled sweetly back at Arthur. "Enjoy your bath."

"I'm sure I will," Arthur snapped, dipping his foot into the bathwater. "Enjoy your supper. With Gaius."

Merlin tried hard not to think about how he actually would be spending his evening.


	3. Arthur's Response

Merlin stared down at the letter in his hands with a mix of horror, amusement, and indignation.

He had endured an excruciating evening with Morgana, listening to her babble on about Arthur's "bronzed abdominals" and "luscious arse" until long after sunset. After the third time he'd dozed off in his chair, he was finally pushed out the door along with a cheerful, "Don't forget to talk to Arthur about conducting morning training shirtless!"

The next morning, when he had entered Arthur's chambers after a restless night of half-sleep, he had seen a folded piece of parchment lying on the table, right where the original letter had been. He'd stuffed it into his pocket before setting out the breakfast things and dragging Arthur out of bed.

After listening to Arthur's list of about forty different chores, Merlin had finally managed to scarper off to the relative privacy of his own sleeping quarters.

The letter was not, exactly, what Merlin had been expecting. Then again, knowing Arthur, perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised.

_Servant,_ it began,

_Your language is rather flowery and overly sentimental. Perhaps you could find some other vehicle of expression. Pottery, perhaps? Horse riding? Or you could assist my manservant in mucking out the stables. I hear it's very satisfying work._

_If you insist on continuing in your current hobby of penning overly sentimental drivel, I would recommend you find a different recipient with which to share said drivel. Although I am capable of providing constructive feedback, I have better things to do with my time than to read your poorly concealed insults and trite cliches._

_Speaking of cliches, if you decide to write another one of these letters, please omit the phrase "noble and kind heart" in future._

_Also, I feel I must inform you that breaking into the crown prince's chambers while he sleeps is generally frowned upon. I'd rather not have to call the guards._

_Your Prince_

"Prat," Merlin said, when he'd finished reading the whole thing.

Well. It was only proper for Merlin to write a response, wasn't it? And Morgana was probably busy. Best not to disturb her.

***

After a long day, there was nothing Merlin liked better than curling up in his bed, burrowed under a warm duvet. He let his eyes drift shut and clutched his pillow tight to his chest, breathing in the familiar scent.

"You were awfully quiet this evening," said Morgana.

Merlin screamed and dove for the closest cover he could find, which happened to be the other side of his mattress.

Morgana squinted and rubbed her fingers against her temple in a circle. "Well, except for just now, you've been quiet; that shriek was rather loud."

Merlin rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes just to make sure that he wasn't still asleep. "Morgana, why are you in my chambers," he paused to glance at the window, "in the middle of the night?"

Morgana walked over to the foot of Merlin's bed, and commented, "You should keep your voice down, you know. You've probably woken up poor Gaius with your high-pitched screaming."

"It's not high-pitched!" countered Merlin. Unfortunately, his voice was currently quite a bit squeakier than he would have liked, which put the lie to his current argument. "Look, it doesn't matter! Why are you here? Won't you be recognised?"

"Of course not," she cheerfully replied, "that's what this hood is for, see?" She spun around, modelling her cloak. Merlin wasn't really sure how a dark green velvet cloak would hide the fact that the King's ward was sneaking into a servant's chambers after dark, but he decided not to say anything. Instead, he started rummaging around in his pile of dirty clothes for a tunic to preserve his modesty (and hopefully prevent execution were the king to walk in and find Merlin shirtless with his beloved ward).

Morgana pursed her lips and reached down to pluck a tunic from the midst of Merlin's bed sheets. He tugged the garment out of her hands and pulled it over his head.

"You've been keeping secrets from me, Merlin dear. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Merlin fought to keep the panic off his face. Secrets? What secrets? Had he left his spell book on the floor again? Gaius had scolded him about that just last week. Merlin’s gaze darted towards the floor, but he couldn’t see anything from where he was sitting. "What do you mean?" he asked. He smiled for good measure. Whenever the subject of warlocks came up, his dimples usually proved a sufficient distraction.

"Arthur wrote a letter and you didn't even tell me!"

Merlin's relief was short-lived, as Morgana had begun glowering at him and looked poised to do him violence. "Sorry?"

"Well?" she demanded, hand outstretched and palm face up. She wiggled her fingers. "Where is it?"

"The letter?"

"Honestly, Merlin," she said, "sometimes I wonder about you. _Yes_ , the letter!" She clambered up on the bed, gathering her skirts up around her, as she waited for Merlin to fetch Arthur's message.

Merlin still felt a bit out of sorts, being clad only in a tunic and hose, but he made his way over to the chest in the corner of the room and rifled through its contents until he found Arthur's letter from earlier. Morgana grinned giddily when he handed it to her and started scanning the page.

Merlin watched her expression very carefully as she read. He could guess which part of the letter she was on by how much her eye twitched, or her nostrils flared, or how the corner of her mouth curled up in a smirk. At the "noble and kind heart" bit she let out an undignified snort and glanced up at Merlin with unadulterated glee and a look that clearly said _I told you so_.

By the end, she was grinning from ear to ear, and Merlin had the urge to punch something. Not Morgana, certainly. Perhaps something dear to Morgana. A prattish prince would do.

"And the reply?" she asked, startling Merlin out of his elaborate prince-punching daydream.

"Er. Shall we write one?"

Morgana could hit harder than Arthur when she put a mind to it. As Merlin clutched the back of his head and blinked to clear the stars in his vision, she snapped, "Merlin! Arthur may let you get away with your atrocious lies, but that's only because they amuse him. I know you already wrote a reply. Now, where did you put it?"

"Turn around."

"What?"

Merlin glared at Morgana. "It's _hidden_. I can't have you stealing all my secrets, can I?"

Morgana raised her eyebrows but dutifully shifted on the bed so her back was to Merlin, covering her eyes with her hands. After verifying that she wasn't trying to sneak a surreptitious glance, Merlin tiptoed over to his hidden cache and pulled out the parchment that was stuck between the pages of his spell book. He slid the book back and walked over to the bed, rereading the note he had penned earlier that afternoon.

_Prince,_

_If I had known you would be so unappreciative of flowery speech I would not have used it. Am I then to assume that you prefer me to speak plain?_

_Or perhaps I could list some of your faults. However, the list would be incomplete at best, and if I were to write them all out, my hand would likely start to cramp. Besides, it may surprise you to know that I do have better things to do all day than pen letters to princes._

_I have taken your suggestion of pottery to heart and will let you know how my classes proceed. Perhaps if I am lucky I shall create a stone plate to display your letters to me. That is, assuming you respond to this one._

_Would you really call the guards on me? I rather suspect you like it when someone breaks into your chambers._

_Servant_

"Well?" called Morgana, her voice tinged with impatience. "Can I look yet, or are you still hovering around your hiding spot? It's not like I want to look up your collection of _Wenches Weekly_."

Merlin thrust the parchment in her lap with a squawk. He could feel his face heating up. Even his bloody ears were probably bright red by now. "I don't own any _Wenches Weekly_ , Morgana!"

Morgana simply smiled and snatched the letter away, furiously devouring the thing with her eyeballs. The occasional cackle burst from her lips as she read, and Merlin was considering abandoning the room and sleeping on the floor of Gaius' workshop (or, gods forbid, Arthur's servant quarters) just so he could get some sleep. He was so wrapped up in his deliberations that he was taken off guard when Morgana leapt off the bed and wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Morgana," he wheezed, "I can't breathe."

"You're just so precious," she replied, tightening her grasp further.

The edges of Merlin's vision were darkening when Morgana finally let go, and he collapsed onto his mattress.

"You should drop this off while Arthur's still sleeping," Morgana announced, as if she hadn't nearly strangled Merlin to death. "That way we can see how long he takes to respond." She prodded Merlin in the side. "Well? Get up! Chop, chop, Merlin!"

As soon as they had exited Gaius' chambers (past a glowering Gaius, who had been woken up either by Merlin's shrieking or Morgana's cackling), Morgana flounced off in the opposite direction, pulling her hood about her face and shooting furtive glances down the corridor. As he made his way to Arthur's room, Merlin prayed that being caught in the prince's chambers in naught but a tunic and sleeping hose was a less punishable offence than being caught with the king's ward wearing the same. Alas, such were the perils of associating with the royal household.

***

Merlin had been neither surprised nor pleased when, after Morgana's night time visit, he had been unable to get back to sleep.

This was only made worse when, after rousing Arthur, and making sure he consumed enough of breakfast to calm some of his more homicidal, sausage-stabbing tendencies, the prince had cheerfully proclaimed that today was the day of his hunting trip, and that Merlin would be joining him.

Normally, Merlin would have been delighted; Arthur was less abusive on hunting trip days, and it was an opportunity to get some exercise and fresh air and, more importantly, an excuse to avoid mucking out the stables. But right now, Merlin was bone-tired, and not sure if he could spend the entire day on horseback without falling out of his saddle.

"Are you positive you need me, sire?"

Arthur turned to glower at him, his eyebrows bristling, in an apparent attempt to make them look more like Gaius'. "Of course I need you, Merlin. Don't be daft."

"You could go with one of the knights," Merlin suggested. "Much more competent than I am, surely."

Arthur grinned and reached over to ruffle Merlin's hair. "If I valued competency, I wouldn't have you as my servant, now would I?"

Which was how Merlin found himself, one horse ride and some prancing through the forest later, tiptoeing through the trees after Arthur, struggling to keep his eyes open, as Arthur aimed his bow and arrow at a baby bunny nibbling grass in a shaded alcove of the forest. Perhaps if he leant against this tree for a bit, he could catch a few moments of sleep while Arthur sniffed the wind or whatever he did when hunting.

It felt like his eyes had only just fluttered shut when he felt a warm hand gripping his shoulder and heard a low chuckle next to his ear. "Stay up all night again, Merlin?"

Merlin had never transitioned from sleeping to wakefulness so quickly.

Arthur’s glove-clad thumb was tucked under his neckerchief, resting on his clavicle, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the leather. His other hand was resting casually against the tree trunk, just to the right of Merlin’s hip. His breath puffed hot against Merlin’s neck. Suddenly all Merlin could think of was Morgana’s ceaseless taunting.

_Have you prepared any baths for Arthur lately?_   
_How else will you be able to report back on what he looks like hot, bare, and wet?_

Merlin could think of nothing else but Arthur’s proximity and the tickle of breath on his ear. He could feel that his face was hot, and Arthur would certainly see his flush. But, oh, gods, Merlin prayed that he would not look down.

Arthur simply brayed a laugh and stepped away. “You’re too easy, Merlin,” he said, and stalked off to carry on with his slaughter of innocent woodland creatures.

Merlin would have breathed a sigh of relief, but there was something wrong with lungs, and all he managed was a shuddering gasp. Luckily, Arthur was too focussed on aiming his crossbow into the foliage to notice Merlin’s odd reaction.

This was not the first time Merlin had thought about Arthur in a less-than-appropriate fashion. However, it had been the first time when he and Arthur had been in the same place. Beyond the obvious reasons why this was a Very Bad Idea, he was trying to help Morgana romance Arthur. To think of him this way was a betrayal of her trust!

Merlin couldn’t help the somewhat bitter thought that after Morgana’s ceaseless cooing over Arthur’s physical form and her psychological abuse during the entire process, it would be entirely deserved if Merlin were to have his wicked way with Arthur.

What if that was what she _wanted_?

Merlin shook his head. The very thought was preposterous. What would Morgana gain from Merlin having a psychotic break and ravishing Arthur forcefully over that stupid breakfast table? No, she was simply expressing her fondness for Arthur in the most irritating and sexually frustrating way possible. Like the object of her desire, she had a talent for driving Merlin off his rocker.

By the time Arthur returned, cheerfully trailing a stoat, two sparrows, a badger, and an entire warren of rabbits (the rabbits, though, were still alive; apparently he had some idea of breeding them), Merlin had made up his mind. He would talk to Morgana, and explain that he was no longer able to assist her in her wooing. Tonight.


	4. Merlin's Decision

Merlin did not talk to Morgana.

Instead, Merlin stared at Arthur’s backside during the entire return trip to the castle. Arthur was silent for most of the ride, only throwing the occasional barb to make sure Merlin hadn’t fallen asleep on his horse. As soon as they entered the lower town, Arthur went back to his quarters, leaving Merlin with two horses, a pile of dead animals, and a sack of rabbits. He unsaddled the horses, brought the sparrows to the kitchens, lugged the rabbits over to Gaius, and made his way back to Arthur’s room.

The quarters were empty; Merlin stuffed the hunting supplies back in their chest and started preparing the room for evening.

When he flipped down the duvet, he saw a slip of parchment peeking out from underneath the pillow. Without thinking, he grabbed it and stuffed it under his tunic. He rushed through the rest of Arthur’s before-bed preparations and nearly tripped in his haste to get back to his chambers. Absently nodding at Gaius, he locked his door and sprawled onto his stomach, spreading the parchment flat over his pillow.

_Servant,_

_I think it would be best for everyone involved if you were never to speak of my faults again. Obviously, I am a flawless specimen. I will be glad to see you agree with this assessment._

Merlin snorted out loud, then clapped a hand over his mouth. He didn’t want Gaius coming in to check on him.

_What, pray tell, are you doing all day? Surely if you have time enough to pen such lengthy letters, and conspire to deposit them to me, you have far more free time on your hands than I myself do._

“Pretentious git,” Merlin murmured.

_I must confess to losing sleep in order to write to you._

Merlin had to read that sentence twice, his heart jumping in his throat for a reason that he refused to analyse.

_My manservant has been complaining about my energy in the mornings, but I think that’s simply because he believes that a time exists before sunrise, and that it is meant to be enjoyed in any form other than lying in bed. Heathen._

“Oi!” Merlin said, before remembering himself. He glanced at the door, but there was no sign of Gaius looming on the other side.

_By all means, create a decorative plate to display my letters. I only request that you decorate it in accordance to the regality of the parchment it contains. Purple would be an appropriate colour. Or perhaps gold and red, to match the Pendragon crest._

_I have decided that calling the guards would be too easy for the likes of you. I am determined to catch you myself next time you sneak into my chambers. Prepare yourself accordingly. I am expecting to test out the skills with throwing knives you praised me on earlier._

_Prince_

Merlin’s cheeks felt pinched from the grin he wore. He rolled off the bed and strode over to the desk to start penning his reply.

He sat down at his desk, already reaching for spare parchment and ink, then paused and bit the inside of his lip. How should he respond? Every time Arthur sent back a letter, it was more ridiculous sounding. He thought of Arthur’s stupid donkey laugh and the way his eyes crinkled up when Merlin said something stupid.

But it didn’t matter, did it? The letters weren’t from him, not really. They were from Morgana. When Arthur found out the secret identity of his admirer, he certainly wouldn’t be rushing into _Merlin’s_ arms.

Merlin shoved away from the desk and crawled into bed, suddenly exhausted.

***

The next morning, after a night of tossing and turning, he avoided both Morgana and Arthur as best he could, slipping out of Arthur’s chambers without waking him. Gaius set him to scrub the leech tanks and he barely had the energy to voice his displeasure. After less than half a tank, Gaius shooed him off. “Go on,” he said, shooting Merlin a bemused look. “I’ll have to clean this again myself anyway.”

Merlin flashed him a weak smile and slipped into his chambers instead of taking his luncheon outside into the sunshine.

The thought of the unanswered letter was taunting him.

So what if the letters weren’t supposed to be from him? In a way, they were. He knew Arthur just as well as Morgana did. He could at least write a letter that would make Arthur smile. Merlin locked the door to his chambers, half-eaten apple in one hand, and wrote out a reply.

_Prince,_

_As you said, I must agree with your assessment. Of course you are flawless. You are a god. A paragon. A most noble specimen. How anyone could claim that you are fallible, human, or a colossal prat is beyond my understanding._

_I spend my day lounging about, feasting on grapes and wine, taking hot baths, and watching the knights spar in the courtyard. What else must a fair maiden of this court do on a daily basis?_

_This manservant of yours sounds horrid. Perhaps you should fire him and replace him with someone competent. Perhaps someone who treats you with respect and never calls you clot pole._

_I will let you know as soon as I have finished my plate._

_Have you caught me yet?_

_Servant_

He stared down at the page for long moments before folding up the letter and tucking it in his tunic. He would slip it into Arthur’s room tonight.

***

Later that night, Merlin poked his head through Arthur’s chamber door. Reassured that the room was, in fact, empty of princes, Merlin strode over to the bed and started tugging the covers into place. He slipped the newest letter from his pocket to tuck it into its hiding spot.

“What are you doing, Merlin?”

Merlin slipped his hand out from underneath Arthur’s pillow, his muscles tensing up. “Just straightening your bedclothes.” He craned his neck to look over at Arthur, who was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“Of course.”

Merlin twitched.

“You wouldn’t be avoiding me, would you?” Arthur asked, expression mild. He used that same face to lure in fresh recruits, who thought he would be _kind_ and _forgiving_. “It’s just that, in the past few days, I haven’t seen much of you.”

“I’ve been ill,” Merlin blurted.

“Ill.” Arthur’s eyebrows looked disbelieving.

“Erm, yes.” Merlin tried to look pale and sickly. “Weasel sickness. Very severe.”

Merlin would like to think that Arthur’s smirk was more fond than mocking. “Did you get lost on your way back from the tavern?” 

“I… what, did Gaius say that?”

Arthur straightened and strode over to the bed, nudging Merlin out of the way with a soft press of fingers against his hip. “Well, you won’t mind if I check to see what you just put under my pillow, then?”

“Pillow?” Merlin’s eyes widened. “That wasn’t me, that was Morgana.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Merlin, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He slipped his hand under the pillow, and pulled out Merlin’s letter. “A letter. For me?”

“It’s not—“

Arthur shushed him, unfolded the parchment, and started reading. His mouth immediately quirked up in a smile. When he finished reading, he looked up at Merlin, his eyes bright. “As to your last question: yes. It looks like I _have_ caught you.”

Merlin may have flailed. Just a bit. Arthur grabbed his wrist and started stroking it with his thumb.

“How do you know I wrote it?” Merlin asked, desperate. He was on the verge of panic, hyper aware of the soft buttery texture of Arthur’s leather glove as his finger trailed up and down his pulse point. “Loads of people fancy you. I’m just the delivery person.”

Arthur quirked an eyebrow, and the side of his mouth rose with it. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognise your handwriting?”

Merlin blinked. “Oh.”

He would have said more, but Arthur’s lips were warm, and a little chapped, and his breath smelled faintly of mead and roast chicken from supper. Merlin let his eyes fall shut and slid his hand upwards to cup the back of Arthur’s head, fingers threading through silky strands.

Morgana was going to kick his arse for this, but it was worth it.

***

**_Epilogue_ **

Morgana would have to remind Arthur to be more situationally aware. Not only was he making the most gods-awful moaning noises, but he’d left his door unlocked. Anyone could walk in on him.

Then again, if he _had_ locked the door, Morgana simply would have used her lockpicking tools and broken in anyway.

She was rather pleased with the amount of moaning.

Arthur and Merlin seemed to be as well. This was confirmed later, when Arthur didn’t come complaining to her about Merlin even once in the next week and a half, and Merlin picked up a habit of whistling while he mucked the stables. She’d heard about the latter through Gwen, as Merlin had been avoiding Morgana lately.

Morgana was, herself, glowing with the pride of a job well done.

“You look happy today,” Gwen told her as she brushed her hair one morning.

“Gwen,” she asked, “how well would you say you know Lancelot?”

Gwen blushed. “I have spoken with him, my lady. I would not say that I know him well.”

“Tell me, Gwen…” Morgana said, her smile stretching wide, “how much do you know about writing love letters?”


End file.
